Since the 1996 release of Music of Hairs, Andrew Bird's sound has become increasingly more difficult to categorize. Jazz? Swing? Folk? Rock? In the beginning, recalling such demarcated musical styles may have been appropriate in some complex combination. But now, after over a decade of exploring and experimenting, Andrew Bird has created a sound which, by mixing this wide spectrum of genres, transcends categorization.

The change came with 2005's The Mysterious Production of Eggs, and 2007's Armchair Apocrypha further grew Bird's sound with an orchestral flair. Bird carries this trend tenfold into his live performances. While he layered three or four or five tracks on top of each other in the studio, live performances easily double that. But to say he creates a wall of sound would be too crude. The riffs of violin, guitar, and drums are not bricks, but colors. He adds layer upon layer of music to paint a thunderous landscape of sound that shakes your seat as much as your heart. If this description seems trite, maybe it is, but Bird is an artist, and when given the canvas offered him by Carnegie Music Hall he creates some fine music.

But first, Howe Gelb.

For many, the name Howe Gelb rings no bells, but you may recognize some of his related projects: Giant Sand, OP8, Calexico. No? Then maybe some of the artists who have played with him at various times since he first started (with Giant Sand) putting out albums in 1985: Neko Case, Juliana Hatfield, PJ Harvey, Vic Chestnutt, Chan Marhshall. Surprisingly, even with these connections, Gelb remains under the radar (thanks to a self-professed lack of motivation). However, with the recent support of Andrew Bird, this likely to change, and I say thank him for that. With 22 years of producing strong alt-folk/country albums in the vein of Bob Dylan and Neil Young, the guy deserves some new fans.

As for his performance Tuesday night, I'll say this: if he didn't start his set drunk, it's hard to point to the exact time the alcohol kicked in. I'll blame this for the state of the first half of his set, which was marked with a general level of disorganization that really turned me off at first. Gelb started the set by himself, and he often seemed like he was doing as he pleased, writing the songs as he went along. A song would be going along and then get louder for an unexpected moment, or he would pause a song to let the audience know a solo was coming up. (By himself, isn't every part a solo?) Of course, if I am going to give Gelb the benefit of the doubt and say he must have been perhaps a bit intoxicated, I should mention it had a great effect on his on-stage personality. Introspective, laid back, and full of humor, Gelb spent as much time conversing with the audience as he did playing songs. The mic breaks were entertaining and interesting, and they managed to keep my attention when the songs could not.

Thankfully, the second half of Gelb's set was strikingly improved. Joined by Martin Dosh on drums and (a Norwegian whose name I won't even attempt to butcher) on guitar, Gelb seemed like a new man. The backup band kept Gelb on track, allowing his songwriting skills to really shine. It was a surprising, welcome turnaround, and I wish Dosh especially could have accompanied Gelb for his entire set. Drums can have a very invigorating, unifying effect on a song. And although Gelb got off to a slow start, he had a strong ending much more indicative of his talent.

I first saw Andrew Bird at Carnegie Mellon University last year in a small gymnasium where he opened for Blackalicious. Consequently, neither the audience nor sound system were anything spectacular. Coming a few months before the release of Armchair Apocrypha, the performance hinted at the direction in which Bird would be going. ("Plasticities" and "Simple X" seem to be requirements of any Andrew Bird show in the past year, as they should be.) The setting was definitely constraining, but all the essentials were there: longer, more expansive versions of songs, and an abundance of whistling.

So when the lights dimmed and Andrew Bird walked onto stage, I wasn't sure what to expect. Was that CMU show typical? Not at all, I would quickly learn.

Bird began with a slow, old song with the lights turned down before Dosh and Jeremy Ylvisaker (on guitar) joined him on stage for a seven minute version of "Fiery Crash" that really kicked the show's ass into gear. "Fiery Crash", with its almost three minutes extra of undulating atmosphere, filled the music hall to the brim with sound. And, if I can poorly borrow a line from the song, it was a fatal premonition of things to come. Simple reproductions studio versions with little or nothing added were in very limited supply, and even then the mere volume of the songs was enough to give them that extra something. Instead, voluminousity (in both size and sound) was the norm. (How about the turning of "Simple X" into an eight minute masterpiece?)

While the Andrew Bird of Production of Eggs and Armchair Apocrypha might fit best with bands such as Sufjan Stevens or The Decemberists, the Andrew Bird of Carnegie Music Hall seemed to take more cues from post-classical rockers Sigur Ros. The folk rock structure was still there, but it was framed and filled with ethereal combinations of drums and violin and whistling. In doing so, Bird displayed his skill as a composer of songs as well as sets; songs flowed from one to the next like a perfectly matched mixtape. (My favorite moment: the amusingly adorable "Dr. Stringz" acted as a mic break and a rest before Bird burst into "Fake Palindromes".)

I know this has all been rather vague, but I hope you've gotten the point: Andrew Bird is fantastic in concert, even better than on album. And seeing him in a venue that fully allows him to express his talents is an experience you can only really understand by having it yourself. However, for those who just don't buy what I'm selling, or happen to unluckily inhabit a sad part of the world never to be visited by Andrew Bird, the following:

As elusive as Andrew Bird might be to capture on tape, some approximations do exist. Consider the following field guides, compiled for your listening pleasure.

First, a quick remedy for the indie kid on the go...

• An Unofficial Manual to the Home Reproduction of Andrew Bird
  From 0 to Bliss in 7 Easy Minutes!
1. Wait until nighttime.
2. Put on Fingerlings 3.
3. Skip to track 7 ("Scythian Empires").
4. Turn the volume higher than it goes.
5. Turn off all lights.
6. Lean back in your chair.
7. And close your eyes.

Or if you have a little more time...

• Extended Listening for the Man or Woman who has Everything (Including Time!)
  A Crash Course in Andrew Bird in 113 Quick Minutes!
1. Download Andrew Bird in Concert. (NPR)
2. Wait until nighttime.
3. Play Andrew Bird in Concert.
4. Turn the volume as high as it goes.
5. Maximize the Andrew Bird slideshow.
6. Turn off all lights.
7. Lean back in your chair.
8. And close your eyes.

by Spencer Sugarman

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